


we are the heroes (we're talkin' legends)

by writing_addict



Series: The Miraculous Tales of Skathari and Mechanicat [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (couldn't resist), Alternate Universe - Miraculous Ladybug Fusion, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric Swears, Fox Miraculous, Gen, Heroes & Heroines, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Identity Reveal, Miraculous Team, Origin Story, Parental Roy Mustang, Vigilantism, alphonse elric knows all, amestris's military is Not Pleased, and im bringing the team, but he's also a total fan, but yknow it's fma, for the new team members, its 2020 and im back, ling yao is smarter than he lets on, more miraculous? more miraculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: Mechanicat and Skathari have defended Amestris for over a year, dedicating themselves to taking down Monarch and stopping his akumas however many times it takes. Unfortunately, Monarch has all the time in the world, and the akumas are only getting deadlier as time wears on. It may finally be time to confront the idea that they can't do this alone.Luckily, they don't have to.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric & Ling Yao, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: The Miraculous Tales of Skathari and Mechanicat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1505633
Comments: 45
Kudos: 92





	1. Vulpyre

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! I'm bringing back this AU and introducing the other Miraculouses, and putting the team together! Ed and Winry won't have to fight alone anymore (and I'm pretty sure you can guess which characters are gonna be given a Miraculous, lol). The title is from "Heroes and Legends" by 3 One Oh. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find the Fox Hero first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gee a fire based hero name??? wonder who that could be

Roy is pretty sure that he must’ve been a detective in some other life. Otherwise, there’s no logical explanation for how he’s figured out the identity of Amestris’s beloved Skathari— _while no one else knows._ Maybe it’s because Skathari enlisted him and Hawkeye as their “military liaisons”, so he’s one of a rare few actually close enough to see the similarities between him and a certain insubordinate underling of his, but still. Shouldn’t someone have figured it out by now? Hell, shouldn’t they have figured _each other_ out by now? All signs pointed to them having no idea who was under their partner’s mask, which…well, that was some romance-novel bullshit, as far as Roy was concerned. And he’d know. His entire _love life_ was some romance novel bullshit.

He doesn’t mention anything, of course. He’s heard the reasons why Skathari and Mechanicat refuse to unmask until Monarch’s defeat, and they make sense. It’s a way of protecting each other as well as themselves, and Skathari would be devastated if anything happened to Al because Monarch targeted him. He’s perfectly content to let Fullmetal think he’s getting away with it, because really, he _is._ Not when it comes to him, but the whole of military seems to have no idea that their most valued asset is also one of the biggest thorns in their sides.

Seriously, though. He has no idea how people haven’t picked up on it yet. Who else has golden eyes like that? Who else has hair that _exact_ color? And Fullmetal starts wearing earrings at the same time that a superhero with _literal magic earrings_ shows up? Come _on._ Hell, the kid started shrinking at the same time that the height difference between the two got more noticeable! People didn’t usually _shrink,_ so there was clearly something else at play.

Then he saw Ed bouncing around his pocket watch like a goddamn yo-yo and it clicked.

His subordinate—his fearless, quick-witted, idiot subordinate who would sooner die than admit to any variety of magic existing—is the magical, villain-fighting, yo-yo wielding, ladybug-themed superhero Skathari.

His subordinate is out there fighting deadly, vicious akumas on a _daily basis._ And no matter how many times people insist that the akumas aren’t nearly as big a deal as people make them out to be, the people getting akumatized are often far from innocent. He’s seen akumas made from murderers, monsters, soldiers, people who _know_ how to cause damage and topple worlds just as often as he’s seen jilted lovers or frightened children. Monarch _wants_ to see people hurt, the heroes most of all—and that’s not even counting how many times they’ve been attacked during their “patrols”, by military or by the handful of civilians that buy into their rhetoric about dangerous vigilantes.

He can’t stop Ed from going, wouldn’t ask it even if he _was_ aware that he knows. Skathari is as much a part of Edward Elric as Fullmetal is, that much is clear. Despite the grueling work and the constant fighting, Skathari brings him _actual joy,_ whereas being the Fullmetal Alchemist brings him little more than pain and exhaustion. As the one who brought him into the military, Roy doesn’t want to do anything that could take that one piece of himself that he _enjoys_ away. And since telling him he knows would be the most surefire way to get Ed on the defensive and to lose any of his trust, he can’t exactly do that, either.

Besides, it’s not like they’re not capable. Ed is deadly efficient even as Fullmetal, despite his fondness for reckless, idiot, self-sacrificial _bullshit._ As Skathari, with a partner guarding his back (one he doesn’t see himself as having to protect from the world like he does with Al), he’s calm and sharp with a tactical mind Roy isn’t afraid to say could rival his. He’s seen that kid pull victory from a red-spotted tissue box and a baking pan, taking down akumas and criminals with a flick of that yo-yo—which only wins him more respect in Roy’s eyes, because the kid is fighting with a _yo-yo._ Not a staff like Mechanicat’s, not his usual automail blade, but a children’s _toy._ And yet he wields it with as much confidence and surety as he does a spear as Fullmetal.

And it’s not like he’s fighting alone, either. Skathari works with Mechanicat as seamlessly as he does with Al, and she guards him fiercely. The two are locked together in this partnership (and he’s pretty sure Ed has a crush on the cat hero) by something more than being thrown into the superhero (he can’t believe he’s actually using that word, but what else is he supposed to go with in this situation?) life, both ferociously protective of each other and reading the other’s intentions with nothing more than a quick glance. In all honesty, they remind him a little bit of him and Riza. The thought almost makes him smile, before he realizes _why._

Because they have to have each other’s backs. They have to stand beside each other and fight, keep each other alive and carry the weight of the entire world on their shoulders. Because if they don’t look out for each other, if they don’t hurt with each other, don’t rise with each other, don’t hold each other close and listen to the sound of a pounding heartbeat just to remember that they _aren’t alone,_ no one else will. With their masks comes anonymity, but it means that if they die in them, no one will mourn them but the other. Because _no one else knows them._

And that—that’s heartbreaking. No matter how well he knows Fullmetal can handle this burden, no matter how many times he reminds himself that he’s not alone, he can’t stop himself from hurting a little for both heroes.

It doesn’t make it any easier when the akuma alarm blares and Ed makes some excuse before vanishing. It certainly doesn’t make him any less worried when he sees akumas made of slashing blades and burning blue flames and the heroes emerge victorious, but bleeding and burned and bruised. The wounds are always erased with the damage, gone in a wave of ladybugs and red magic, but he watches Fullmetal’s fingers graze over smooth skin that was bleeding and torn a half hour before and he knows the mental scars are nearly as bad as the physical ones (or lack thereof).

And this one…this one is one of the worst in a while. It tracks them, it follows, it fights, and it’s _dangerous._ Somehow, it can cut right through their suits, leaving them slashed and tattered, and it isn’t losing focus. Roy hates that there isn’t more he can do, that he isn’t out there right now, but if the military gets involved—if he gets involved, this will only escalate, and things will only get _worse._ All he can do is listen to the radio, fingers curling uselessly into fists as the report chatters frantically through their microphone.

 _“This akuma seems to be some sort of swordsman, calling itself Excalibur,”_ a voice says nervously, and Roy nearly scoffs at how pretentious and wrong that seems, a person being used for something so evil calling themselves the sword of ultimate good from Arthurian legend. _“T-they—they can shoot blades from their hands and manipulate the trajectory so they can hit anything, pierce anything and—and_ see _anything in the reflection of their swords—Skathari and Mechanicat are on the defensive, I can’t hear what they’re saying but it seems to be something about a retreat.”_

Roy swears softly, getting to his feet. _It’s already this bad. I have to do_ something. This is his city, his country being terrorized. It’s just dumb luck that Monarch chose to akumatize someone in East City, but it means he can at least provide a distraction. He starts for the door, only to freeze as the reporter lets out a terrified shriek. _“S-Skathari’s been hit! He’s bleeding badly—o-oh, god—”_

Fuck. _Fuck._ So much for near-indestructible superhero suits, huh? He shuts off the radio, sliding on his gloves, before a crash makes him whirl, poised to snap—

At Skathari, who’s sporting several tears in his suit, bleeding from a bad gash in his shoulder. Golden eyes glare up at him, glazed with pain as his right hand, metal beneath whatever strange fabric masks them from the world, tightens around…something. Roy can’t make out what it is, but he can’t help stepping closer, hands held out worriedly. “Fullme—Skathari,” he corrects quickly, but he can tell from the sudden shock and horror washing over that small, masked face that it’s too late. Shit. Motherfucking shit.

“Y-you _know?”_

“That you’ve been out there risking your life twenty different ways a week since a year ago? Yeah. I figured it out.” He watches him suck in a defensive breath, his free hand moving to put pressure on the gash, before he adds, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

Shock flashes in those eyes again. “What—why?” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “You gonna use it to blackmail me? Betcha the Ladybug Hero’s secret identity could get you some major points with the generals. Maybe even a promotion.”

Roy feels a bit hurt, honestly. Did he really think he’d sell him out that easily? Sure, he’s cutthroat, but Fullmetal is part of his team, of the people he has to protect. Bradley, he’s sure, wants nothing more than to have the heroes in his pocket for one reason or another, which is reason enough on its own to keep their identities safe from the military and the world at large. Add in the fact that Fullmetal’s his subordinate and he’s doing a damn good job as a hero, and…well, he’s not inclined to tell anyone, much less the higher-ups. “The title of Fuhrer’s hardly worth having if I only get it by selling out the people fighting for me. Besides, you’re good at what you do, and you’re doing it for the right reasons.” He raises an eyebrow. “Now do you want a bandage or something? That slash looks…”

Bad. Really bad. But he can tell from the scowl on Skathari’s face that he knows. “It’ll be fine. _I’ll_ be fine. It’s gonna go away as soon as I use Miraculous Ladybug anyway.”

“And what happens if you bleed out before then?”

“I’m _fine,_ bastard!”

Despite himself, Roy nearly chuckles even as he digs out the first-aid kit and grabs a roll of bandages. “You need stitches, but if you insist on going without, at least wrap that up so your cat doesn’t have an aneurysm. And hurry. They need you back out there.” He tosses the roll to him, Skathari catching it in one bloody hand before giving him an unreadable expression.

“…We need help,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before unfurling the fingers of his right hand and holding something out—something _strange._ Roy stares at it in confusion, tilting his head to get a better look at it as the pendant glows faintly, the amber-and-ivory fox tail spinning slowly. For a moment, it feels like time itself has frozen, leaving just him and the necklace and the bleeding hero—soldier—alchemist— _child._ Golden eyes glow fiercely as Skathari says, “This is the Fox Miraculous. It gives the wielder the power of illusions, and it’s yours. Take it.”

Roy—well, Roy does, staring down at the foxtail charm—for a _Miraculous, what the fuck—_ and slips it around his neck, tucking it under the collar of his jacket quickly before what Skathari said registers. “What do you mean, it’s mine?”

“I mean we need _help_ ,” Skathari spits, and Roy knows just how much that must burn, admitting that he needs _help_ defeating these particular demons, especially help from _him._ “There’s more akumas than ever, and Monarch’s only gonna get stronger. Mechanicat and I can handle most of them, but there are situations like these—where we lose. Or we know we’re going to lose. So we need backup, and…and people we can count on as the masks.” One black boot scuffs awkwardly at the carpet as he starts winding the bandages around his injuries. “When we recovered the lost Miraculouses, the kwami told us to give them to people we trusted, and—yeah. Besides, you’re good at all the sneaky stuff foxes do, and you wouldn’t have to fight every single battle.”

Oh.

 _Oh._ Something warms in Roy’s chest at that. Fullmetal trusts him. With a Miraculous, with his identity—and has apparently given him something that plays to his strengths. Strategic indeed. “I’m honored,” he says quietly, before letting out an undignified yelp as the Miraculous-necklace-thing _glows_ and a little—fox-spirit _thing_ appears, orange and white with big, mischievous violet eyes. “What the—”

“Oooh, you picked a good one, little bug!” the fox-thing chirps, Skathari barking an angry, _“not little!”_ as it floats in front of Roy with a wicked grin. “My name’s Trixx, and I’m the Fox kwami. I power your Miraculous, play your flute to cast illusions and play a specific tone to cast Mirage, feed me berries to recharge blah blah blah let’s _go!_ I haven’t been active in _centuries!”_

What. What the fuck. Okay. “Just say _let’s pounce_ to activate it,” he hears Skathari grumble, tying off a bandage with his teeth before tapping his foot impatiently. Roy can only stare at the creature—kwami—and hero with wide eyes, before saying a hesitant, “Let’s pounce?”

Immediately, energy—warm and bright as amber, swirling through his body and making him feel like he could bound a thousand miles through sunlit forest, like a guide and a thief and a trickster all at once—sweeps up and over him. He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them, his vision is a thousand times better, picking out a million tiny details he missed as—well, as himself. Something twitches and swivels on his head. _Ears,_ and when he looks down at himself, he’s…he’s in some sort of strange body armor, practical and flexible and form-fitting. It’s not quite as sleek as Skathari’s, or as twisting and complex as Mechanicat’s, but it’s…actually something he would’ve chosen.

Hell, it’s not even bright orange. It’s a deep black with rich russet piping and dark oranges that flow from his gloves and boots up his arms and legs and into that inky black, and when he flexes his fingers, claws snap out.

Also, he has a tail. Apparently, that goes for any hero with a Miraculous that involves a creature with a tail. But he decides not to dwell on that (even though it is most definitely attached to him and as real as the fox ears that are no doubt on his head are), instead reaching back to grasp the flute strapped diagonally across his back and pulling it free with a swish. He’s never played the instrument in his life, but he thinks—he _knows_ he can. He knows just how to leap across rooftops so that he traverses entire cities without breaking a sweat, where to hide out from enemies so he can mislead them with illusions and trickery.

He _knows._

“You done admiring yourself?” He glances down at Skathari, the ladybug perched in the window as the sounds of crashes and screams ring out across the city. “’Cause we got an akuma to fight, bastard.”

The Fox Hero inhales, exhales—before shooting him a grim smile. “Lead the way, Skathari.”

* * *

The next day, the news stations and the papers gush about the new hero that called up a cyclone of false fire to freeze the akuma in its tracks. Far below Central City, Father seethes at yet another Miraculous that’s escaped his grasp, the presence of a new hero doing even more to unsettle his plans. The military scrambles, desperate to find a Miraculous so they can understand it and regain control over their nation.

Colonel Roy Mustang read over the headline from the East City Gazette at his desk the next morning, lips quirking into a smile as he sets it down and takes a sip of his coffee, slipping a raspberry to the kwami settled in his pocket.

_Legendary Hero Duo Welcomes Vulpyre To The Team of Amestris’s Defenders._

For better or worse, he’s Vulpyre, and Roy Mustang—

And the Fuhrer doesn’t stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also roy's suit looks like daredevil's from the Netflix show but it's orange on black and his mask is more like that of the other heroes and not a helmet) 
> 
> Fox: Roy Mustang  
> Turtle: ???  
> Bee: ???  
> Peacock: ???


	2. Aegis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next comes the Turtle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegis refers to the goatskin shield of Athena, or to the "protection, backing, or support of a certain person or organization". Sound like anyone we know?

If there’s one thing Riza Hawkeye hates, it’s feeling useless. It’s something she’s known for saying to other people, particularly Roy, which—well, is cruel of her, even if it’s occasionally accurate. To pass off the trait she most fears exhibiting onto someone else, particularly some she loves (and she _does_ love Roy Mustang, however infuriating he can be, however much she has to hide her feelings, her heart, her _soul)_ is cowardly and cruel, but it’s the only way she can protect herself from those feelings of inadequacy.

And yet no matter how many times she confronts it, no matter how many times she pushes that feeling aside or on someone else, she still falls short. It’s a selfish, horrible thing, and she’s a selfish, horrible person for doing it, but still she does. And still she fails, and the cycle continues anew.

The thing is, she knows she’s good at what she does. She’s patient, and she’s sharp, and her trigger finger never wavers. She knows when to strike and when to hold back, when to provoke and when to calm. It’s her job to play the straight-man to Roy Mustang’s chaos, after all, to be his voice of reason when he seems to be waltzing circles around everyone else in the room and insulting them on their too-slow steps besides. The world knows her as the person who exists to rein him in, his partner-in-crime and handler all at once.

They don’t know about the death-sharp mind beneath his façade of charisma and quick wit. They don’t know that he’d do anything to protect his people, his team. They don’t know that his loyalty runs as deep and fiery as the magma at the core of the earth. All they see is that mask, that illusion he casts to protect them all, and she—

She is the one who protects it. Who protects _him._ She promised to follow him into hell, and swore an additional oath to herself—that she’d guard his back. She’d back his plays, pull him out when he did something truly _stupid,_ when his self-sacrificial _bullshit_ threatened his life and those of the people around him.

She has. She does. And she’ll continue to. Because Roy Mustang is, despite all his genius, an idiot when it comes to anything requiring any form of common sense. She suspects it’s actually from a lack of trying, given that every alchemist she’s met is just as much of a fool in a way that’s either endearing (re: the Elric brothers, who are possibly two of the most brilliant people she’s ever met, but also have exactly two plans for every contingency—punch it, or use alchemy) or terrifying (Kimblee. Enough said). Protecting him and the team they’ve built, whether from himself, from others, or from the military itself, is what she does best, and she does it with pride.

But pride isn’t enough, when the whole world is against you, when you’re an _ordinary person._ She’s good at what she does, _the best,_ if she does say so herself, even compared to talents like Rebecca’s (and though she doesn’t like comparing herself to others, much less one of her dearest friend, it’s almost an _instinct—_ ingrained in her from years upon years of never being good enough for even a smidge of Berthold Hawkeye’s attention, up until he _needed her back—)_. She keeps a cool head in times of stress, she knows how to rein in the antics of her team and when to amp them up. She’s their backbone, their foundation, and she’s damn good at it, her heart as patient as her hands…but she’s no alchemist.

Her father made that _very_ clear.

She resented it, at first, but not for a while after. Not until strange monsters popped up wreaking havoc all across Amestris and all the ammunition and perfect shots and deadly aim in the world couldn’t stop them. Not until two children—and they are children, she _knows_ they’re children, no matter how professionally they act, the way they act around each other is so clearly those of _kids protecting each other because they have to_ —appeared in costumes wielding what could only been classified as _magic_ and fighting back the supervillains with terrifying competence.

People are being hurt, innocents are being hurt all over again—not at her hands, but by those of someone with far more power than she _has,_ or ever _will_ have. Their emotions are being taken advantage of, used against them in an effort to destroy—seemingly _everything._ Monarch, that monster, seeks out every possible source of negativity and turns it on people, weakening them until they accept his “gift” of power and wake up to find a teenager in a red-and-black spotted suit standing over them—and know that they did terrible, terrible things.

Innocent civilians being turned into criminals, occasionally leaving bodies in their wakes and destroying entire cities. It’s always restored by Skathari’s _Miraculous Ladybug,_ but she knows the scars remain. It’s there in the people shouting _monster_ at the victims, those who pull their children behind them when a once-akumatized person crosses the street. It’s there when they look at the news reports and hear the radio shows detailing everything they’ve done, all the damage they caused. It’s certainly there when people argue for the arrests of victims of akumatizations, as though it couldn’t have just as easily been them, caught off guard by a black butterfly on a bad day.

The only reason the military hasn’t gone after them, she suspects, is that the first person to be akumatized was a military officer. That, and the fact that Skathari and Mechanicat would _rain hell_ down on anyone who tried to make one of Monarch’s victims stand trial. Kids protecting the people that the military is supposed to protect, the ones they’re persecuting now.

Kids stepping into the line of fire over and over, attacked by a magic butterfly with a penchant for destruction, attacked by the same military that’s supposed to be helping stop the attacks.

Kids doing their jobs for them, protecting the country _she_ vowed to protect.

Riza grimaces, gazing out her window as Hayate bounds around her apartment and barks happily. By all accounts, she should be in an equally good mood. The weather is nice, it’s her day off (god, it’s nice to get out of her uniform for once), she’s fully caught up on her paperwork (and so is Roy, who’s had an odd burst of productivity and a new fondness for blueberries), there’s no attacks, and her worries about the two teenagers currently tasked with saving Amestris are somewhat assuaged what with the arrival of Vulpyre. It’s like everything is falling into place, but she can’t shake these feelings that things are—going _wrong._ Or about to.

Something warm is settled on her lap, and she glances down with a chuckle despite herself as the puppy sets his head in her lap and pants up at her, black eyes wide and sweet. “Sorry, Hayate. Just lost in thought.” Her dog _whuffs_ out of his nose, hot air rushing over her leg, and she snorts, scratching behind his ears as that curled little tail _thup-thup-thups_ back and forth. “Not that you care, huh? Is your mama being mean and not letting you go on your walk?” His tongue lolls out in what almost looked like a smug, mischievous smile, and Riza shakes her head in amusement. “Alright, alright—”

There’s a shriek and an almighty _crash_ from outside, and she stiffens, her eyes widening as Hayate bolts and she rushes toward the window. People are scattering, running from a collapsed building with smoke pouring off of it. There’s no sign of anything—supernatural, so it’s probably just _normal_ terrorism (whether domestic or international), but then she sees what she can only describe as a _monster_ crawl out of the wreckage and roar. It looks like a dragon, if someone twisted the noble, powerful monsters from legend and turned them into something sickening and strange. Its wings are misshapen, and six purple eyes glow as it throws its head back and breaths a bolt of black fire at a figure diving for it from above, someone in _red—_

Who poofs out of existence as soon as the fire touches them. Riza’s eyes dart to a silhouette in black on top of a building, holding some sort of stick-like object to their lips as the real red-clad figure lands beside him. _Skathari and Vulpyre,_ she realizes, even as she shrugs on one of her (many; she knows better than to go around unprepared) bulletproof vests and throws her coat over it, grabbing her pistol and slinging her rifle over her back. She can’t fight it, maybe, but she can at least provide some cover for civilians to get out. _Which means Mechanicat shouldn’t be far behind._

By the time she reaches the streets, the chaos has only grown. Her fingers brush slowly over the hilt of her handgun, watching the heroes jump around and try to distract the monster, before she sucks in a breath and ducks into the fray. The akuma seems to be heading for the center of the city, so she herds people _away,_ as fast and as far as she can. Not fast enough, not far enough, because the damn thing is still _coming_ and the heroes can’t block its attacks, so there’s no mitigating the damage.

Fan. Fucking. _Tastic._

 _At least the street’s almost empty,_ she thinks grimly, turning to look up at the approaching akuma as…two heroes continue to leap around. Just two. There’s no sign of Mechanicat still, and worry starts to pulse in her chest. The akuma clearly didn’t start off here, it _crashed_ here from…wherever they were fighting it before. She might have gotten taken out, or used her Cataclysm up or whatever the hell that—main attack thing results in.

She could be hurt. There’s a kid out there that’s been doing their jobs for them, and now she’s probably injured or _worse._ Riza’s fingers tighten around her pistol. _High ground. Get the high ground._ She scans the rooftops, looking for the most stable structure with the greatest height, before—

Before whirling and pointing her gun at someone as a claw taps her shoulder lightly.

Mechanicat holds her gloved hands up quickly, looking exhausted and battered. Riza’s gaze darts over her quickly, taking in the way she favors her left foot, the way her hand twitches toward the staff holstered on her hip, her drooping tail and flattened ears. “I’m not here to hurt you, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

“You’re already hurt,” Riza finds herself saying, gaze linger pointedly on one booted foot. Mechanicat winces and shifts her weight, lowering her hands. “Is that why you’re not in the fight?”

“No, I’m fine.” Riza raises an eyebrow despite herself, because clearly, _no,_ the girl is not fine, and Mechanicat’s gaze hardens. “ _Seriously._ I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, but this is nothing. I can still move on it.” She casts a baleful glare towards where her partner is fighting, and—ah. _He told her to get out of the fight, didn’t he?_ “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You’re a kid. You shouldn’t have to worry about _worse.”_

Mechanicat blinks at her, before her smile turns softer, sweeter, less like razor blades and broken glass. “…Thanks. But trust me, I’m alright. I was actually looking for you.”

_Looking…for me?_

Her unspoken question is answered when Mechanicat holds out a small bracelet with intricate beading, a tortoiseshell-patterned bead standing out more than the rest. “Lieutenant Hawkeye, we need someone to be our defense. This is the Turtle Miraculous. It grants you the power of protection, and allows you to create an unbreakable shield.”

A Miraculous.

A _Miraculous._ The same magical jewelry that…created the three heroes she knows of. _There’s more? And more…powers, then?_ She hesitates, gazing at it. She’s hardly deserving of…any of this. Of being a _hero._ “Why me?”

At that, Mechanicat’s lips quirk up. “My partner and I recovered several of these lost Miraculouses over the past year. At first, we intended to just…protect them, but it’s become clear that we can’t do this alone. Not always, anyways.” She glances up at the ongoing battle. “Vulpyre is someone that my partner trusts with his life, someone he says spends every day weaving illusions with words to keep the people he loves safe—a perfect match for the fox. You, Lieutenant Hawkeye, are someone that my civilian identity admires…very much. Someone who showed me that I didn’t have to be a bystander anymore. You fight to protect your people. All of them—and you ran out here to help civilians without a second thought. Most people would run the other way, but you chose to save others at the expense of yourself. _That’s_ what a Turtle does.” She clasps the bracelet around Riza’s hand without waiting for permission. “You put your life on the line every day to protect Edward and Alphonse Elric,” she says quietly. “You have… _no idea_ how much that means to me, Lieutenant.”

Riza gazes at her a moment longer, pieces turning in her mind. Mechanicat is someone she’s met as a civilian, someone who cares very deeply for the Elric brothers—with blonde hair and blue eyes. She files the information away for later, even as a name and a face start to seep into her mind, lifting her chin. “I…would be honored to help you and Skathari.”

Mechanicat beams, her exhaustion momentarily disappearing. “Great! All you have to do is say _shell on,_ and your kwami will do the rest.”

“My wh—”

“That would be me,” a small, measured voice says evenly. The bracelet _glows,_ and it takes all of Riza’s self-control not to recoil in shock as a tiny…turtle… _something_ emerges in a burst of green light. “My name is Wayzz, kwami of the Turtle Miraculous. It is an honor to meet you.” He—at least, its voice seems vaguely masculine, so that’s what she settles on for now—inclines his head to her with a faint smile. “Mechanicat is correct. Say _shell on_ to transform. Your shield—or, rather, your shell—will block any attacks, but to cast a shield that protects others or spans a wide area, you must use _Shellter._ Afterwards, you will have a fifteen-minute window before the transformation drops.”

 _Shell on, Shellter, fifteen minutes until I have to do their recharge-thing._ “Understood.” She holds out a hand experimentally, and says, _“Shell on.”_

Immediately, green energy sweeps up and over her, feeling invigorating and fortifying, strength and agility pulsing in her veins as she takes in a slow breath and releases it, feeling…calm. Steady. Ready to face whatever comes next.

When she opens her eyes, her world is painted in shades of gold—goggles, she realizes, rather than a simple mask. She glances down at herself, feeling a weight on her back and sliding her arm through a set of straps instinctively to transfer her… _shell_ to her arm. Ridged armor patterned like a turtle shell runs in a stripe down her chest, the rest of the top made of strong, flexible material in rippling shades of green. She shifts experimentally, finding the weight of her green-soled combat boots the same as her usual ones, her pants simple and easy to move in (and thankfully laden with pockets). Mesh covers her exposed arms until they reach deep black, fingerless gloves.

Functional, but stylish, she thinks with a faint smile. If only military uniforms were the same way.

Mechanicat clasps her hands together, grinning delightedly. “Ready?”

She lifts her head, training her gaze on the akuma, before her eyes narrow. Her fingers curl around the strap of her shield, and she gives Mechanicat a grim smile. “Get back up there quickly.”

“Fifteen minutes starting now,” the Black Cat murmurs, before darting off.

The Turtle Hero sucks in a breath, before stepping into the street to stand before the advancing akuma. If this works, if she blocks it, they can go on the offensive instead of being stuck containing it—which means they can take it _down._

_Inhale. Exhale._

_“SHELLTER!”_

* * *

Aegis becomes an overnight sensation, as does the miraculous _(hah)_ wall of green energy she created between fleeing civilians and the akuma. The military’s scramble to find some form of this power grows even more obvious, but Riza pretends not to hear a word of it when she comes into the office the next day. She settles in at her desk, slipping a bite of kale into one pocket. “Wayzz,” she murmurs as she glances over the day’s itinerary, “remind me to send Miss Rockbell a thank-you sometime.”

There’s a moment of silence, before the little kwami chuckles. “Very wise, Miss Riza. Very wise indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fox: Roy Mustang  
> Turtle: Riza Hawkeye  
> Bee: ????  
> Peacock: ????
> 
> Thanks for reading! This chapter was a little harder to write, but it was loads of fun. I figured that Riza and Roy were perfect for the turtle and fox respectively--the protector dedicated to guarding the back of the man running a long con on his own government. What could be better than that? Leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time! <2


	3. Mifeng/Buzzkill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third comes the Bee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm asking you to go to [justiceforbigfloyd.com](https://www.justiceforbigfloyd.com/) and sign the petition to put the rest of George Floyd's killers behind bars, call 612-324-4499 to connect to a hotline that will take you through the case and let you talk to city and state officials that hold these murderers accountable, and donate whatever you can to [The George Floyd Memorial Fund](https://www.gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd), [The Minnesota Freedom Fund](https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/), and [The Justice For Breonna Taylor Fundraiser and Petition](https://www.change.org/p/andy-beshear-justice-for-breonna-taylor). Call 502-735-1784 to be connected to a hotline that will guide you through Breonna's case and connect you to city and state officials that can help hold her murderers accountable. You can also text FLOYD to 55156 or JUSTICE to 668366 to sign petitions.
> 
> Also, it's been a hot minute since I updated this lmao, so we're back on track with more Miraculous AU! Now we're gonna do lots of introspection, and you've probably guessed who it'll be on~

The Miraculous, Ling remembers distantly from within the swirling, shrieking mass of souls Greed’s psyche is made up of, are legends in Xing. Not children’s stories. Genuine legends, held in the same regard as the Western Sage, who brought the ancient stories of magical jewelry and demigods to them when they brought the secrets of alkahestry. He’d grown up on stories of Ladybugs and Black Cats, Turtles and Foxes, Butterflies and Peacocks and Bees and Dragons. On stories of _heroes,_ of leaders and protectors and warriors and these legends that lasted thousands of years. Even when he’d begun his search for the Philosopher’s Stone and the path to immortality, he’d found himself wondering if _that_ kind of immortality was better—where maybe you didn’t live on, but your words and actions and name reached on for thousands of years to come.

But the Miraculous were gone even before the Western Sage arrived, destroyed and hidden and lost to time, to the point where most of his homeland questioned whether they had ever been real after all. The chances of finding a Philosopher’s Stone were low, but the chances of finding a Miraculous were infinitely lower, and as much as Ling wanted to know what it was like to be a hero, to have that power, the needs of his entire clan were riding on him. To get the highest chance of being able to help them all and take the throne, he’d planned for the search for the former, not the latter.

Then he’d arrived in Amestris, and it was like stepping into a world his child-self had only dreamed of—not the nation itself, no, there were certainly things he admired about it, but he missed his homeland. But for all its flaws, all the smoke in the sky and the overwhelming power of the military, Amestris has something Ling never thought he’d see in his lifetime.

Amestris has a Miraculous. Several of them, in fact, working together and in opposition to each other. Amestris is the home of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses, the two most powerful, the keepers of the balance. Amestris has _superheroes,_ has Skathari and Mechanicat and Vulpyre and Aegis—and a super _villain._ Monarch.

It’s like something out of a comic book, he reflects—except with the excitement of heroes comes the inevitable downsides he never quite imagined, the opposition between the military and the heroes, the physical and psychological effects of Monarch’s akumas. Skathari’s _Miraculous Ladybug_ might heal the physical, but the emotional and mental scars…he’s only been in the country for a few months (his time stuck in Greed’s head fighting for _control_ notwithstanding) and it’s taken a toll on him. He can’t imagine what it’s like to live in the middle of this, with absolutely no escape, no control, _nothing._

_It’s not quite so much fun,_ he muses, _when it’s real life_. He used to pretend to be one of the heroes when he was little, before he realized what it meant to be the son of the emperor and that the lives and welfare of an entire clan—and possibly an entire empire—were riding on his shoulders. He would drag Lan Fan off from her training and they would play for hours, pretending to battle evil as Ladybug and Shadow-Claw. It was fun then—easier then. Before he learned what being a prince of Xing really meant, that he’d had a target painted on his back by his own half-siblings from the second he took his first breath, that thousands of people were relying on him to become the Named Heir and first emperor of Xing to come from the Yao clan.

He wonders when he stopped being a child and became a leader—when he stopped being a leader and became a figurehead. If he was ever any of those things at all. If he was ever really a child, when he was poisoned for the first time at age four and assassins came after him when he was still in the cradle. If he was ever really a leader, or just the key to his clan’s success, and if it was possible to be a good emperor for more than just his clan.

He wants to be. A king’s first duty should be to the people—all of them. Ling _wants_ that, and he wants that for his nation, for the caste system to change, for the clans below him to have a chance to speak and the clans above him to be able to listen, and to make his own clan proud. He wants to be a good man and a good king, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s even possible to be both.

The leader of Amestris certainly isn’t, both the homunculus puppet Wrath and the man ( _Father,_ Greed’s thoughts hiss with equal parts reverence and loathing) beneath Central City who unleashed the Butterfly Miraculous upon the world. And while Amestris is hardly a role model for _any_ nation, the others around it seem much the same. Aerugo, who didn’t grant refuge to Ishvalan refugees fleeing the genocide of their people. Creta, wreaking havoc on the towns along Amestris’s western border regardless of the innocent people who live there. Drachma, whose history of assassination and revolt and meddling in other nations is so notorious that it’s a wonder they even get away with it anymore.

He doesn’t know much about the countries across the sea, but he hopes they’re better than the ones on this continent.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to find out. Not with the Promised Day coming, not locked inside his own head, not while they’re too busy running—the chimeras, Greed, and Edward Elric—to regroup and _plan._ And maybe they can’t risk it, but it’s been months, and Ling can _see_ from inside Greed’s mind that Father won’t be satisfied with Amestris alone, that if his plan succeeds, he’ll move to conquer the entire continent.

Including his people. Including his nation.

Lan Fan already lost her arm because he failed her, because of his greed— _ha._ If he has this knowledge now and fails to act, then he’s responsible for the deaths of his people. Just like he’s responsible for her pain and loss now.

_Is that what it means, to be a leader?_

In that case, Skathari, the Ladybug hero who Ling might have a teeny-tiny crush on (confident blondes, he thinks ruefully, it’s _always confident blondes,_ and Skathari and Mechanicat are doing him _all the favors)_ has it even worse off than he is. He’s not a king, he’s not a ruler, but he and Mechanicat are responsible for the well-being of an entire nation of people—a nation that has its military actively hunting them whenever they fight. A nation that lets its scars fester while two people—and Vulpyre and Aegis too, he supposes, but the Ladybug and Black Cat were there first, they always have been—try to heal them.

They don’t complain, they don’t stop. They just keep going, keep trying, keep fighting.

Ling…wants to be like that. _More_ like that.

_Wants. It’s always want._

_Is it any wonder Greed was the one Father chose to give you?_

Distantly, he hears Greed scoff at something Ed said, watches the two of them bicker before letting out a quiet little huff and covering his ears, trying to drown out the wailing of the souls. He’s strong—he _knows_ he is—but this part of him is still human. This part of him is losing a little hope, going a little mad at the constant noise and despair.

It’s _hard,_ being a good person. He can’t imagine how hard it will be to try and be a good emperor. To balance strength and kindness, to be unforgiving and benevolent, to be better than his father was. Than his entire paternal lineage has been for a long time.

When his body was his own, he felt like he could it. Like he could change his country, change the world. Now that it isn’t…now that it isn’t, it feels like an impossible task. It feels terrifying, and some part of him chokes at the thought, because he’s _fifteen, he’s only fifteen—_ and maybe fifteen is an adult, maybe he thought fifteen was old enough, maybe _four_ was old enough to become a target in a fight he’d never asked for, but he’s never felt so small or helpless as he does now. It feels daunting, feels impossible, and he hates that he’s stuck in this stupid cycle of fear and self-pity in his own head, but he _is._

_I’m only fifteen._

He’s never realized how small that number is before. The homunculus using his body is hundreds of years old. The Miraculous are as old as time itself. Compared to that, what is he? Some stupid, upstart kid who thinks he can do something?

_Fifteen._

It’s such a small number.

He hates himself for thinking it, because Edward fucking Elric is fifteen, too, and he’s done a hell of a lot more than Ling did when he was _twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen._ He’s not wallowing, he’s fighting. He got thrown down a mineshaft and impaled on a giant piece of metal and he used his own life-force to heal himself. And he’s _still_ fighting.

And Ling…

Ling got his body back, got Greed to turn on Father, and now he’s stuck again. Drowning again. Maybe that was why he never stopped moving or talking or _acting_ before (acting cheerful, acting happy, acting like _nothing was ever wrong, but it is, it’s wrong and I don’t feel right and I’m so scared),_ because now that he can’t do any of those things, all the pressure is crashing down. All of it is drowning him, and he wishes he had someone to call out to or hold onto, but he doesn’t. Lan Fan is far away and hopefully safe, and so is Fu (not that Ling can talk to him about this anyway, not someone who believes in him so much, he can’t tell him he’s _afraid)._

King of nothing.

_Isn’t it funny?_

He watches through Greed’s eyes as Ed throws up his hands and storms off, some pointed jab he barely hears thrown over his shoulder at the homunculus. That creature—Greed’s psyche—turns toward him, white eyes staring down at him. He tilts his head up, keeps his expression serene—doesn’t show any of what the constant noise, the feeling of _I’m not good enough_ is doing to him.

The creature looks away after a moment, Greed’s focus returning to the outside. Ling lets himself slump a little bit, lets some of the exhaustion hit as his body is moved by someone other than him, made to walk out of the campsite and after Ed, his mouth grumbling words that aren’t his about _stupid kids_ and _Darius is gonna fuckin’ kill me if I let him run off._

Selfishly, he wonders whether they would do that for him—worry about him like that. He’d be fine—probably—but he can’t help wondering if they would care. If they should.

“Ling Yao.”

He stiffens at the words—Greed does too, and through his eyes he sees him turn in a clearing, sees red and black and gold, sees a mask, sees a yo-yo strapped to narrow hips and sharp eyes pinning them as arms covered in red-spotted armor cross impatiently. Sees Skathari, even as he hears Greed drawl, “The soul you’re askin’ for isn’t available anymore, little bug.”

Skathari’s eye twitches at the comment, and Ling nearly giggles hysterically at how Ed-like the reaction is, but no screaming rant follows, so it can’t be him. “Isn’t he?” is all he says in return, lifting his chin and arching his eyebrows at Greed. “I might not have empath abilities like the Butterfly _your_ maker set loose, Greed, but I can still sense his life in there.” A pinkish sort of light sparks around neatly gloved fingers. “I want to talk to him. Both of you, in fact, but whatever I say to him, you’ll be able to hear—and he needs to hear this from me to him, not me talkin’ to him through you.”

Greed stiffens. “If you think I’m gonna trust—”

“I trust you, moron, enough to know that you don’t want your stupid ‘vessel’ hurting,” Skathari snapped, patience clearly fraying at the seams. It would be funny if Ling didn’t know exactly why—that the akuma attacks had been escalating, that Amestris was reaching a tipping point, that the Promised Day was coming and the Miraculous wielders were probably very aware. “And I’m trusting you _both_ with something big, so I need you to shut up and listen for once in your damn life.”

Silence. Utter silence, as Ling ponders what it means, that Greed doesn’t want him hurting, before he yelps as he’s shoved to the forefront without a word. He squeezes his eyes shut, blinking a few times before letting them open again, just once, just for this conversation—to drink in the sky with his own eyes for a few minutes before Greed inevitably takes control. “Skathari,” he says after a moment, and lets his face fall into that easy, bright smile. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Those fierce golden eyes softens a bit, and Ling fights down the urge to blush because _confident blondes, goddamnit._ “I did,” he confirms quietly. “I know you’re aware of the fight that’s coming. Mechanicat and I have been trying to protect the people of this country for years now, but this…” He shakes his head after a moment. “We need help. All of us—Mechanicat and Vulpyre and Aegis and I, this is what this _war_ has been leading to. We need all hands on deck. Which means we need your help.”

_My…help?_

Ling pushes down the excited vestiges of that little kid who believes in heroes screeching about _the Ladybug needs our help!_ and nods, squaring his shoulders (and trying not to relish the fact that he even can, because he knows it’s all going away soon). “I’ll do whatever I can,” he promises. _I just don’t know how much that actually is._

Skathari’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Good. Because this is yours.” A gloved hand holds out a box shaped like an octagon. Ling takes it, furrowing his brow before popping it open—

And revealing a comb. Made of ivory and gold with the design of a bee on it. He opens his mouth to ask what it is, before freezing as he hears Greed whisper, _“Holy shit,”_ from the back of his mind.

“Ling Yao, Greed, this is the Miraculous of the Bee. It grants the power of paralysis.” Skathari’s voice was solemn as Ling’s hands trembled around the box, the comb, the _Miraculous._ “It’s yours now. Use it well.”

A Miraculous.

For—him. And Greed, but also _him._ He’s been trusted with the kind of power that could remake _worlds_. _The Bee Miraculous._ And it belongs to _him_ now. “Wh— _why,”_ he nearly chokes out, hoping that he isn’t as visibly teary as he feels right now, before stiffening a little as Skathari laughs, golden eyes gleaming.

“Something tells me that you’re the kind of person who refuses to stand by while the world falls apart—someone who’d fight the enemy to a standstill for their people. A leader. A _Bee,_ protecting their hive.” He taps the comb lightly. “And you have a pretty strong endorsement from a new friend.”

Before Ling can ask who, though, a light flashes out of the comb, and he fumbles for the box with a yelp as a little creature—a bee-like little thing, with blue eyes and black sclerae and crystalline wings—appears. “Hello, my king,” it—she?—greets in a sweet, warm voice. “I’m so very glad to meet you. My name is Pollen, kwami of the Bee Miraculous.” He stares, wide-eyed as a little paw pats his hand, Skathari watching with a dry smile. “I just know we’ll do great things together!”

“It’s _buzz on_ to transform, use _Venom_ to freeze an opponent in their tracks, and from there you have fifteen minutes to keep fighting before your transformation times out,” Skathari adds, his grin widening. “What d’you say? Wanna take it out for a spin?”

Ling stares at the comb, looks up at the hero—his hero, if he’s being entirely honest—before fixing the comb behind his ponytail and taking in a slow breath. Then—

“ _Pollen, buzz on!”_

* * *

The appearance of the new hero makes headlines, and the first time they’re brought out in an akuma fight, the country marvels (and Father rages, deep, deep below the city) at how fast the fight ends. The second time, it looks like an entirely new hero—but not quite. The world chatters eagerly about Mifeng and Buzzkill, the two Bee superheroes who are both protector and fighter.

And as Greed waxes eloquent about the merits of both heroes (thankfully without mentioning either of their secret identities), Ling swears he sees Edward Elric smile from the side of the campsite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Leave a comment and/or a kudos if you did, and I'll see you next time!
> 
> I've also opened up donation commissions! Basically, if you DM donation receipts from organizations such as:  
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**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you soon!


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